Tough Verdicts Take Heavy Toll On Jurors

They are often taken away from their families and sequestered in modest hotel rooms. Then they are thrown into the media spotlight.

And, when a trial is finally over, they often take the heat for the outcome.

They are jurors in high-visibility cases. Sometimes they feel like victims.

Just ask those who served on some of South Florida`s more sensational cases.

``I had to pack up and move out of my house on account of reporters and the threatening phone calls,`` said Ezra Simmons, foreman of the jury that convicted Miami Police Officer William Lozano of manslaughter in 1989.

``I pray to God I don`t get called for another trial like that one again,`` the retired postal worker said.

In the coming months, scores of residents in Broward, Dade and Palm Beach counties could find themselves passing judgment in several soon-to-be famous trials:

-- Rape defendant William Kennedy Smith goes to trial on Aug. 5 in West Palm Beach.

-- Deposed Panamanian dictator Gen. Manuel Antonio Noriega is scheduled to have his day in Miami federal court on Sept. 3.

Two weeks ago, Lozano`s two manslaughter convictions were overturned. A new trial has been ordered for the Colombian-born officer who shot to death two black men in Miami`s Overtown section.

Now Simmons said he is back in the media glare.

``My phone`s ringing off the hook. Television cameras are staring me in the face. Why me?`` Simmons asks.

``I was only one of six jurors. We all came to the same decision. I didn`t sentence him. Everyone blames me. I wish I hadn`t been on that trial.``

Simmons, a controversial juror who had been strongly challenged by Lozano`s attorney, has no fond memories of the trial.

``While we were sequestered every night, Mr. Lozano was going home to his family,`` Simmons said.

``Being a juror was like being a prisoner. They wake you up to go with you to breakfast. They take you to court. They take you to dinner, sit there with you.

``When you go to bed, they check the door. We had to line up like prisoners to go down a secret elevator.``

Of the overturned verdict, Simmons said: ``We found Mr. Lozano guilty with what was presented to us. I was kind of shocked when I heard it was overturned.``

The emotional impact on jurors asked to decide a peer`s fate -- even whether they live or die -- can be extreme.

Greta Goldstein, of Palm Beach Gardens, was the foreman at the murder trial of David Boswell, whom she called a very sad man. Goldstein and other jurors spared him from the electric chair.

Boswell, an alcoholic, was convicted in March of second-degree murder in the killing of Palm Beach County Deputy James Dickinson in 1989.

Dickinson, 29, was shot in the forehead while trying to serve papers to have Boswell involuntarily treated for substance abuse.

Sitting through the two weeks of testimony was extremely draining, Goldstein said. ``There were so many emotions at play. It was hard looking at the victim`s and the defendant`s family in the courtroom.``

Days were long. Deliberations began at 9 one morning and ended at 10 p.m.

``It was emotionally difficult and a very long, involved trial,`` said Goldstein, a medical transcriber.

Deciding Boswell`s fate turned her life topsy turvy.

``It took me away from my job and my responsibilities, but it was my civic duty,`` said Goldstein, who had never been picked for a jury before.

When Boswell was found guilty. Goldstein said she left the courthouse quickly, wanting to leave it behind.

But the trial fallout is still with her.

``Holding someone`s life in your hand, it has a strong impact on you. It`s a lasting thing,`` she said.

Mark Isabelle, 34, a Pembroke Pines hotelier, saw the most gruesome photographs of his life in a Broward County courtroom.

Isabelle was the foreman at the May murder trial of Charles Commander IV. Commander, 23, a computer whiz, was convicted of shooting to death his roommate, Julie Murphy, 29, over a rent dispute. To hide the murder, he chopped her body to pieces and tried to dispose of it along the New River.

``I will always remember her,`` Isabelle said of Murphy, the daughter of a Metro-Dade police officer.

Isabelle has some regrets. Commander was found guilty of second-degree murder, not first-degree-murder, because there was no proof of premeditation.

``Deep down in our hearts we wanted to give him first-degree, but the state couldn`t prove it. It was hard,`` Isabelle said.

For shock value, prosecutors kept flashing the photographs of Murphy`s dismembered body to the jury, Isabelle said. One in particular sticks with him. ``It`s the one of her skull,`` he said, his voice trailing off.

Isabelle said he was exposed to an unsavory cast of players who testified -- crack addicts, thieves and a killer.

He said he is now preparing for his summer vacation. He hopes Julie Murphy`s face does not follow him there.